


You Knock Me Off of My Feet

by OriginalCeenote



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Intimacy, Nudity, Recovering from injury, RoLo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up the stories before “Schism” arc in X-treme X-Men. Story features Logan and Ororo as nurse and patient as she recovers from her injuries at Viper’s hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Knock Me Off of My Feet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of my FIRST EVER RoLo fanfic. Ugh.
> 
> Just... Ugh.

“Sage?”

A faint crackle of static slices through the air as Logan’s eye gear emits the strident tones of the team’s living data mine. “Yes, Logan?”

“Clear my docket. I’ll be here in the training gym for the rest of the day. Clear ‘Ro’s docket, too.”

The rasp of more static failed to hide the note of amusement in her reply. “I had already cleared Ororo’s schedule, anyway, Logan. That goes without saying.”

“My spine suffered the injury,” came the deep, lilting purr from across the suite, “which means that I have lost the ability to walk. Not hear. Or speak. Or to be slightly offended,” the wind-rider added under her breath.

“Point taken, fearless leader.” Sage’s voice was still sardonic, perhaps even a bit contrite. The corners of Logan’s mouth lifted a bit as he logged off the transmission.

“All right. Let’s get to work.” Logan loped over to the stereo perched on the weight bench and clicked on the power. The door on the CD tray buzzed slightly as it slowly levered up. Logan wiped off each disc, several of Ororo’s favorites, removing traces of lint and fingerprints with a soft knit cloth. He fed them one by one into the tray, checking the carriage for dust, and pushed “Play.” Ororo studied him quietly, noting his meticulous attention to her CDs and the care he took not to damage them. I’m in good hands, she mused.

“On the mat, ‘Ro.” Ororo sighed low in her throat and bent down to turn the lever on the first footrest of her wheelchair. She was an old hand at it by now. Logan offered no assistance, feeling it best to let Ororo do what she could for herself. She lowered her feet to the floor, flattening her soles against the mat, and then put on the brakes of the chair to hold it immobile. Grasping the armrests, she pushed herself up and slid herself off the chair’s seatpad to the mat. She unzipped her hooded sweatshirt and made herself comfortable.

“It isn’t taking you as long to do that anymore.”

“Practice, practice,” she sing-songed dryly.

The sounds of “Deep Forest” filled the gym at low volume. “I still don’t know what you see in this New Age crap,” Logan muttered.

“You would no doubt have me listening to honky-tonk drinking music instead. I happen to like this ‘New Age crap.’”

“Whatever floats your boat, chickadee. I’m still gonna make ya work today, make no mistake. Don’t let the easy listening music fool ya.”

“Who said I had?” There was a hint of steel in her voice. Logan smiled more widely; the gritty edge didn’t bother him. If anything, pushing Ororo’s buttons might make her work that much harder, just to prove herself.

The X.S.E. needed their leader back. Ororo had been the X-Men’s leader once without her powers, but her body had still been strong and whole. She had been wily and quick on her feet.

It was too tempting for Ororo to fall back on using her powers. Sure, she could still fly if she wanted to. But that was a cop-out. Rebuilding her strength, regaining her feeling throughout her limbs and relearning her mobility, learning how to function again, was essential.

That was where Logan came in.

“Floor work first.” Charley had given Ororo a clean bill of health after scanning her spine and assessing the level of healing. It was her muscles that needed waking up. “Lay on your back.” The floor mat was cool. Ororo didn’t flinch; her powers still kept it from affecting her.

Logan positioned himself before her, kneeling by her legs. “Lift up. Let’s stretch out those hamstrings.” Chuckling, he added “All three yards of ‘em. You look even taller stretched out like this.”

“I would credit all the milk my parents made me drink as a child…” Ororo’s voice trailed off tellingly.

“Except you seldomly drink milk.” He didn’t give voice to what they were both thinking; that Ororo’s parents never saw their only child grow to adulthood. “Must just be good genes.”

“Or mutated ones, at any rate. Superior ones,” she bragged, “if the classification ‘Homo Superior’ means anything.”

“Only to the ones with an inferiority complex who need lame labels to console themselves.” Logan’s tone was light, belying the serious expression.

“Blessed Goddess, Logan, if I didn’t know better, I would swear what sounded like psychobabble just passed through your lips!” Ororo teased. “I thought you didn’t buy into ‘touchy-feely” stuff like that. Or so you’re always telling me.” And anyone else who would listen.

“Ya live here long enough, ya hear enough of it to start speaking it in yer sleep. I’ve been to enough happy hours at Harry’s with Hank and Kurt to learn more than my fair share.” Ororo winced as Logan leaned against the back of her legs, grasping her ankles as she pulled her legs, mostly straightened, in toward her chest. She hissed out a breath as the stubborn muscles stretched.

“Let me know if you can go any further.”

“Not…yet.” She exhaled and drew in a shaky breath, then pulled her legs in another four inches. “Good,” Logan encouraged. Ororo relaxed her legs as Logan leaned aside, assisting her slightly as she lowered her feet back down to the mat. “Four more reps.” Ororo stifled a small groan.

The stretches continued. “Not too shabby, and not bad for a woman that spends most of her time up in the air.”

“I’ve been spending some of my time in the pool.”

“You will today, too.”

“Slave driver,” she grunted.

“Up,” he commanded. “Spread ‘em.” Logan seated himself, spreading his own thighs apart and inched himself toward Ororo, resting his soles against hers. His feet felt hot to Ororo; she was grateful to feel them at all pressed against her. She was grateful to feel anything.

“Come in toward me a little further. That’s it.” Lifting herself up a bit on her fists, Ororo eased in toward Logan, facing him, opening up her straightened legs to the widest degree that she could manage.

“Nnnnngh…I can’t go in any further.”

“Try.”

“I can’t, blast you,” she huffed, narrowing her blue eyes into slits, suppressing a full glare.

“Pull on my hands, then, as hard as you can. Lean back and pull me toward you,” he ordered, nonplussed. Ororo obeyed. The two of them synchronized the stretch, rocking forward in a wide circle as Ororo took control of the stretch, then Logan. They reversed the circle and did five reps going each way.

“Use those long arms of yours, lean in farther.” 

“Oof…”

“I heard that.”

“I’m not as young as I used to be…”

“Sister, yer preachin’ to the choir, except I can’t even remember how old I was on my last birthday. Or even when it is.” Ororo’s gaze softened slightly.

“Sorry.”

“I’m not. Only one alternative to gettin’ old.” The two of them were mostly silent over the next hour as they worked through the entire worksheet of physical therapy exercises. Logan still looked fresh as a daisy by the time they wrapped it up. Ororo was soaked in her own sweat.

Logan stood and retrieved an ornately carved wooden cane from the weight bench. Ororo despised the long, four-pronged, gait-supporting cane that was ordered for her by the PT clinic. “I’m only unsteady on my feet. This makes me look like I’m on my last legs and at death’s door,” she had complained.

“Looks aren’t everything. Beats being confined to a chair.”

“Yet it begs the user to have blue hair, orthopedic shoes, and a purse full of butterscotch candies. I need something with a bit more style, please.” Logan smiled to himself, remembering the trip to the African import boutique as Ororo oohed and aahed over the wallhangings and furnishings. One cane and several thousand dollars later, Ororo wheeled herself from the boutique, having ordered enough new furniture to redecorate her entire loft.

Logan watched Ororo now as she laid back and stretched again, bending her knees slightly and reaching up, lacing her fingers together as she straightened her arms.

“I know it’s a stupid question, ‘Ro, but are ya sore?”

Ororo made a small sound of disgust. “Goddess, yes! I hate this, “ she complained. “I just want to be whole. I want my life back.”

Logan measured her for a moment, considering what she said. He scooped up a clean white towel and tossed it to her. Ororo reached up and deftly caught it, using it to blot her glistening chest. Logan sank to the mat beside her. He raked his fingers through his dark, thick waves of unruly hair before he spoke.

“Seems t’me like you’ve already got yer life back, ‘roro.” Ororo’s hand relaxed for a moment, forgetting about the slick sweat cooling on her flesh. “Ya survived, this time around. Like ya have before. Like most of us have before. Yer damaged, but yer in one piece. Under the circumstances, yer pretty lucky.”

“You know what I’m talking about, you blasted man,” Ororo spat as she pulled herself up, resting back on her elbows. Logan glanced briefly at her chest as it rose and fell, trying without success not to focus on her breasts.

God, they were perfect. Sometimes I like her this way, he thought. When she’s a mess. Makes me wanna mess her up some more.

“I want to lead. I’m not just going through all this trouble to be mobile again. The X.S.E. needs me,” Ororo continued, staring at her knees. Anything not to meet his direct gaze.

Lately, looking directly at Logan, looking him squarely in those intense brown eyes of his…

It did something to her. Something frightening and strange.

“That’s it? The X.S.E., huh? That’s all yer beatin’ yerself half ta death for?” 

That made Ororo look up. Logan’s brows slanted over his eyes, darkening his face into a piercing scowl.

“Stop playin’ the good little Girl Scout, ‘Ro. I know better than that.”

“Logan, what –“ Logan cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Save it. I ain’t had my say yet. I’ll let ya know when I have.” Logan looked down and cleared his throat before he continued. “’Roro, we’ve both been on this team a long time. I know yer a proud woman. That’s part of what draws folks to ya, I won’t lie. There’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ proud, unless ya stop askin’ people fer help. Ya always feel like yer not s’posed ta need help. Ya always wanna be the one people turn to. Ya want ta rescue everyone, twenty-four-seven.”

“That’s why I’m here,” she cried, matching his scowl before she rolled to her stomach and began inching toward her chair. She stopped when a hot, firm hand clapped onto her shoulder, stopping her from moving any farther.

“No. Yer here ‘cuz Charley asked ya t’give up yer life as a goddess to save mutantkind. You were already helpin’ people right where ya were. I’m on the same boat, Charley convinced me ta give up my old life, too. Only thing is, I left behind a life that wasn’t a life at all.” Logan held her gaze steadily, unblinking, until Ororo had to look away. Logan wasn’t satisfied. He reached out to capture Ororo’s fine chin gently but firmly in his grasp, lifting it up to face him. “From the word go, ‘Ro, you’ve been playin’ den mother to all of us, even me, which made no sense at all, considerin’…you’ve never allowed yerself t’just have a life.”

“Even when Forge’s friggin’ gun took yer powers, you still had to lead. Not bein’ able to fly and fling lightning bolts didn’t stop ya from kickin’ Cyke’s ass and handing it to him – which I was all for, don’t get me wrong, darlin,’ Scott’s still a tool in my book –but ya threw yerself back into the team full-throttle without missin’ a beat.” Ororo’s heart beat a strange, erratic tattoo as Logan swallowed again. His frustration wrapped itself around them both. “Ya never stopped ta consider the flamin’ consequences.”

“Which consequences? That I could die? That I was a liability? That I couldn’t pull my own weight?” Ororo’s voice was uncharacteristically hard. “I didn’t always ride the winds, my friend. And right now, I’m using the term ‘friend’ very, very loosely. Don’t test me.”

“Sorry, darlin,’ but ya gotta hear me out. Even if ya hate my guts when I’m through. I know yer tough, ‘Ro. When the chips are down, yeah, I want you in my corner before I want anyone else. But I want ya in my corner all in one piece, and that means yer spirit, too. Back when ya lost yer powers, at least you had some down time. You went back to Africa fer a while, saw some local color, took a well-needed break.” Ororo snorted inelegantly. “What?”

“Some vacation. Andrea Strucker shot me in the head, I was midwife to a woman in the village for a difficult birth, and I watched a man will himself to die the same night.” Ororo shook her head sadly. “Which proves my point. Powers or not, someone will always need me, and I won’t turn them away. I can’t.”

“Even if the one who needs savin’ is you?” Ororo clenched her fist.

“Logan…when my powers were taken away, that didn’t stop any of our enemies from attacking, just because Storm couldn’t come out and play. I knew the risks.” Logan snorted this time. “I did. I knew that I was potentially the weakest link. Yet I also knew how to keep the team together, in my own way. I knew how to fight. I knew how to shoot. I knew how to break my way in where we needed to go.”

“We appreciated it. But we would have understood just fine if you hadn’t.” Ororo shot him a funny little hurt look that twisted his insides.

Nice going, genius. 

“Ro,” he began, struggling to take it back. Or fix it, somehow.

“So I shouldn’t have bothered? Throwing myself back into the fray to help my team and protect those who couldn’t protect themselves or their own right to live was unnecessary? You could manage just fine without me?” Ororo smacked Logan’s hand away as he reached for her arm to make her stay. She dragged herself up into her chair, releasing the brake and flinging her towel back at him, hitting him squarely in the face.

“That’s not what I mean, dammit, ‘roro, that ain’t what I mean! Will you get back here?!”

“No. Leave me be. I’m going somewhere else to be useless without your help.”

A rush of aggravation and helplessness washed over Logan, raising his hackles.

“Stuck yer foot in it again, Patch."

 

*

Ororo fumed all the way back to the women’s locker room. She grasped the door handle and wheeled herself backward, yanking open the heavy door. She awkwardly wheeled herself through, practically getting wedged in the doorframe in the process. “Dratted, blasted man, curse his eyes! Sure, manage fine without Ororo, then! Fly the Blackbird yourselves, pick your own bloody locks!” Ororo grumbled her way to her locker and spun in the combination numbers in swift, angry clicks.

“Make it rain, while you’re at it,” she muttered, continuing her pity party. Raising up her hips, Ororo divested herself of her sweats and panties and chucked them into the locker. Lowering her feet from the footrests, she slid them into the legholes of her favorite black one-piece Speedo sports suit with the school emblem on the hip. Ororo fumbled with her sports bra, jerking it up until it got tangled in a coil of her hair, bunching it up in a wad within the Lycra band. “Ack!” She leaned forward in her chair, breasts flopping forward almost into her face as she wrestled with her bra again. Her sweat made the Lycra cling to her like a second skin, causing the fabric to roll and twist as she struggled to pry it off.

She worked one arm lose – BANG! – as her hand snapped back and flew into the locker once she freed it. “Ow! Damn it!” That didn’t tickle. The other armhole was perhaps more stubborn, now that the whole band of fabric was even more tightly twisted around her shoulder. Ororo took a deep breath and heaved her other arm out with a grunt, cursing the cumbersome chair and tight space between the bench and the locker row. 

Her sweat-soaked hair picked just that moment to snarl itself around the offending garment. Ororo winced at the tearing sound as dozens of errant strands were yanked out of her ponytail as she tossed the brassiere into her locker. 

She raked her fingers through the frothy, damp tangle of waves at her nape – “Ooooh! Smarts!” and began rearranging it back into some semblance of a ponytail. Her brush was upstairs…and it wasn’t worth the trouble to wheel herself into the lift to go get it. Ororo grunted indelicately as she pulled her hair up at the crown of her head and secured the clip. Like everything else about the day so far, the clip seemed to pull on her, rubbing the wrong way on her nape, but she didn’t care.

And that was how Logan found her.

“Hey, ‘Ro…”

“GODDESS! Logan!”

“GEEZ! ‘Ro, I’m so friggin’ sorry…gads, this is awkward,” Logan muttered from behind his hand as he shifted from one foot to the other, weighing the option of walking back out in the direction that he came. Logan heard Ororo’s muttered curses and a hectic snapping of elastic and spandex as Ororo struggled to cover herself.

Guiltily, Logan savored the blush that rose up his tanned cheeks, as well as the memory of what put it there. Sure, ‘Ro was angry at him. That still didn’t diminish the glory of seeing her in repose like that, arms stretched up over her head as she gathered up her gleaming spill of thick white curls. The working of her slender arm muscles, and the slight arch of her back thrust her sweat-kissed breasts forward, bathing the tops in the glow of the stark overhead light. 

Yup, he felt guilty. Not sorry, per se, but definitely guilty.

“Um. ‘Ro? Y’know I didn’t mean…well, maybe I shoulda knocked first, y’know?” Logan sputtered. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to catch you in the all-together, an’ all.” He cleared his throat, still covering his eyes with his palm. “You decent yet, ‘Ro?”

“Well…not quite.” 

“Oh. Right. I’d better skedaddle…”

“No.” Her tone was abrupt, and clipped. “Actually, Logan…”

“Yeah, darlin’?

“I need…your help. This is a bit…awkward. My suit’s kind of…stuck. Help!” She finished, hating the childish note her voice had taken.

Logan eased his hand down from his eyes.

Ororo was still seated in her chair. Her black suit was pulled halfway-up her torso, but the straps weren’t quite where they were supposed to be, he realized lamely. Ororo’s arms, raised to enticingly above her head before, were now crossed over her chest, shielding her bounty. Her hands clutched at the straps of the suit to keep them from rolling down any further.

“This is a bit of a struggle. I don’t have enough room to maneuver; this is easier when I can stand up,” she admitted miserably. “Everything’s…easier when I can stand up.”

“That’s fine. Say no more.” Logan circled the bench and came up beside Ororo. She felt her chair being tilted slightly and turned so she was parallel to the bank of lockers now, giving Logan more room and a better reach. “Here ya go. Lift up a sec, darlin.’”

Ororo obediently released her arms, leaving herself vulnerable as she leaned her elbows on the armrests. Logan took no liberties as he reached for the bottom half of the suit and jerked it up neatly, unbunching the fabric so that Ororo was no longer sitting on it. A faint tingle warmed him, sweeping over his flesh as his fingertips grazed her hips. He kept his eyes on the long, smooth expanse of her back as he reached for one strap, beckoning for her to feed her hand into it as she worked on the other. 

“M’sorry, ‘roro, it shoulda been Sage or Rogue doin’ this…”

“It’s all right,” she cut him off. Finally decently covered, Ororo looked up over her shoulder at him with wary blue eyes. “Why did you come in here?”

“Yer headed to the pool. I didn’t wanna intrude, kiddo, but I still wanted ta make sure ya got out there okay.”

“I have my glasses, if I need to call anybody, Logan. I’m sure you have other things to do, I don’t want to trouble you.” Logan chafed at the dismissal as he searched her gaze. 

Yup. She was still angry at him. Not quite as much, but that bruised pride and those ruffled feathers were still there. He didn’t try to stop her as she wheeled herself toward the exit.

“Who said it was any trouble?” he muttered. Ororo did her level best to ignore him as she turned the door handle to let herself out.

Ah, what the hell, Logan sighed to himself. He rushed forward and grabbed the handles of Ororo’s wheelchair, stilling her for a moment as he reached for the door handle. He twisted it and flung the door open in front of Ororo, giving her a straight path into the hall. 

Ororo bit her lip as she glanced up at him. “Thank you,” she grated out.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured. 

Yup. He definitely needed a cold beer.

Upstairs, Bishop busied himself peeling some red onions for a salad as Sage pulled a large stainless steel bowl from the cabinet. “Dress the bowl for me, will you? Thanks,” he smiled at her. She didn’t return the smile. She seldom did. She simply held his eyes with a subtle nod as she crossed to the refrigerator and took out a lemon and a clove of elephant garlic from the crisper drawer. Deftly Sage held the flat side of a broad kitchen knife against the clove, swinging her fist in a neat arc to pulverize it. She then sliced the lemon in half and ran it inside the bowl, coating it generously. 

“Don’t forget –“

“The virgin olive oil. I know,” she reminded him. Sage drizzled a narrow stream of it into the measuring cup on the counter and scraped the minced garlic from the cutting board, adding it to the dressing. “I’m letting it marinate while I start the bread.”

“Multitasking. I like it,” Bishop commented dryly as he resumed chopping the onions. The knife flew rhythmically, the blade barely skimming the edge of his fingernails as he cut the halved onions at a perfect slant, in nearly uniform width. Sage allowed the faintest hint of a smile to grace the corners of her mouth, admiring his work with the blade.

She was interrupted from her reverie by Logan’s thudding footsteps as he hauled himself to the refrigerator. Sage took in his hair, sticking up in tufts in the back, as though he had been running his hands through it. His whole posture was tense. “Tell me we have beer,” he growled, yanking open the door and setting the condiments on the shelves to jangling in their respective bottles.

“Bottom shelf. There’s one left.” Bishop silently thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t drank it already when he’d been in the mood for one earlier. Logan neatly squeezed the cap between his thumb and forefinger, ignoring the crimped edge of the metal biting into his flesh, and pried it off the bottle, flicking it into the trash bin. He sucked his gashed thumbed into his mouth for a second before taking a long, thirsty gulp of brew. “I’m that close ta’ throwin’ in the towel,” he swore as he dragged the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Is the patient being a wee bit testy?” Sage chirped. Logan shot her an evil look over his beer bottle.

“Seems to me like you volunteered to help with Ororo’s rehab,” Bishop reminded him. “That means you take it on full-throttle, warts and all. Including all the abuse and temper tantrums.” 

“Eeeerrrgh.” Logan’s growl was blanketed by another fortifying gulp of beer. Bishop chuckled.

“You knew you couldn’t just put a Band-Aid on it and pronounce her all better.”

“Shit. Ya think I don’t know that, Sage? It ain’t her physical progress that’s the problem. It’s her reasons why. FUCK!” Bishop quirked his eyebrow at the profanity, but Logan rambled on. “She’s wearin’ herself out! She’s wearin’ ME out! All she wants t’do is get back in the saddle and lead the pack again, slayin’ all the dragons that land on our doorstep.”

“What do you plan to do, Logan, duct-tape her to the wheelchair? Lock her in her loft? She’s an adult; she’s wearing her big-girl panties now.” Logan nearly choked on his next gulp of beer at this announcement.

“Cute, Sage. Real friggin’ cute.” Logan set his beer on the butcher block table and ran his hand through his hair again, resting his other fist on his hip. “I just want her ta take it easy, fer cryin’ out loud. That was a killing blow that Viper gave her with those claws,” he fumed. “She walked away from it, Lord bless her, from a stroke that would have even left me in bad shape. At least for a while,” he mused.

“Hank says she’s getting better. Slowly, granted, but she’s past the initial danger,” Bishop murmured as he began dicing carrots into perfect medallions. As long as she doesn’t tax herself…”

“But she is taxing herself. ‘Ro doesn’t just wanna walk again, she wants to fight. It’s just…she doesn’t wanna be a burden ta any of us. She doesn’t want anyone t’have to protect her.” Sage took in his flared nostrils with a mixture of amusement and pity. “If the Sentinels landed in the living room right now, ‘Ro’d be right there, crutches an’ all, tryin’ ta take ‘em out with her lightning.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Bishop admitted.

“You know you’re the last person to complain about anyone else pushing themselves too hard, Logan.” He looked up sharply at Sage as she began tearing the rinsed lettuce into bite-sized leaves. “How many times have we seen you abuse your healing factor? How many times have you flung yourself into the leading edge of a hail of bullets, regardless of the physical cost? Just because you can walk away from it, and just because you can heal from it, that doesn’t mean we don’t worry about you, too.

You’re also a poster child for restlessness, Logan. This is the longest we’ve had you in one place in months, you know. People might talk.”

“Shaddup, Sage.”

“Make me,” she tossed back. “You know I’m right. If you and Ororo have one thing in common – anything at all – it’s that you both want to be everywhere at once. And you loathe anyone telling you that you can’t.”

“If ‘Ro an’ I have anything in common,” he mimicked with disgust. “Please. Only thing Boss Lady an’ I have in common right now is that we’re gettin’ sick o’ each other.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” Bishop was silent as he extracted a loaf of sweet French bread from the paper sack, preferring to let Sage have her say. “You wouldn’t have agreed to stay, you wouldn’t have stayed this long, and you wouldn’t be this upset. It’s okay to admit you’re worried about her, not just her recovery, Logan.” Turning back to the counter she muttered “So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.”

“Pppft,” Logan huffed through his teeth, grasping the neck of his half-finished beer and stomping outside. Nosey frail, he growled to himself.

 

*

 

Logan stalked over to his favorite Adirondack chair and threw himself into it, closing his eyes. 

So she wanted to be stubborn. Well, fine. He knew stubborn. Stubborn stared him in the face everyday like his five o’clock shadow.

If only she’d bend a little. An ugly little chuckle escaped him. “If only she’d bend a little.” Since when did goddesses bend to the whims of humble men? At least not to men like him. He took a leisurely sip of his beer as he allowed the light breeze to wash over him, stirring the hair on his arms. The sun felt good. She can’t still be too pissed with me, he thought, or the wind an’ rain’d be drivin’ me back inside right about now.

“Wouldn’t put it past ‘Ro to throw golf-ball sized hail at me right about now,” he chuckled.

It was about a half-mile from the patio to the outside pool. Logan watched the tree branches sway back and forth, glimpsing the flash of sparkling blue that was visible between the trunks. He could just barely hear splashes from here, too…Logan instinctively reached into his sweats’ pocket and pulled out his surveillance glasses. He shoved them on and clicked on the array, magnifying the view of the lenses about thirty percent.

There, that was better. 

Logan adjusted the hidden mic in the stem, switching it on. Ororo’s splashes were even and well-spaced as she came closer to the end of the pool that he could see. She never broke rhythm as she pulled herself smoothly through the water. “That’s it, Boss, prove me wrong, or die tryin,’ eh?”

Logan half-dozed in the sun, lulled by the hypnotic swaying of the trees, by the flash of Ororo’s arms flying up in neat arcs as she cleaved through the placid blue.

Until it stopped. 

Logan was startled from his trance – and from the peaceful, if evocative, memory of Ororo struggling with her hair, looking good enough to eat – by a strange splash. Not a shallow one like the ones before it. Logan just caught a wavelet of water lapping over the edge of the pool as he propelled himself upright. “’Ro?” he whispered.

Through the magnified lenses, he could make out a swirl of white hair floating on the surface of the water, fanning out across arms that were strangely stilled.”

“ROOOO!” Logan knocked the chair aside as he jerked out of it, leaping off the patio at a dead run. “KURT! For the love o’ God, Elf, I need a ‘port, NOW!” he barked into his glasses. The sun-warmed air and light breezes mocked him now, pushing him back and burning his lungs as he sucked in breath. Gotta get there in time, gotta get there in time…

“KUURRRT!” he bellowed again.

BAMF!

“Logan, what…?”

“Port me to the pool, Elf! Don’t ask questions, just do it NOW!” Kurt fell in beside Logan, matching his pace for a second before nearly tackling him, wrapping his wiry limbs around Logan and teleporting them in a flash of blue-black smoke and brimstone.

In one jump, Kurt materialized them by the perimeter of the Olympic-sized pool. “MEIN GOTT! ORORO!” Logan broke free of his grip and charged forward as Kurt reached for Logan’s discarded goggles. “Sage! It’s Kurt! Ring Hank in the medlab, we need him pronto! Ororo’s been hurt,” he panted. He threw the glasses aside as he lurched forward, watching in horror as Logan flung himself into the pool.

Tiny bubbles fluttered out through Ororo’s lips beneath the waves. All was silent. Ororo disregarded the uneasy sense that something was wrong as she reveled in the peaceful, cool blue. She was blessedly numb, even as the blue gave way to black and she was enveloped in a growing chill…

Strange, she thought. I’m not used to feeling cold. 

Everyone feels cold at some point, she reasoned, that’s why the Bright Lady created winter, she mused. To allow her children to rest and herald the new spring, praising her name.

Bright Lady be praised, Ororo thought.

From beneath the darkening waves, a beam of golden-white light poured down, capturing her in its glow. So beautiful, she marveled. She could stare at it forever. Dimly she could feel something tugging at her, shifting her…it was merely the water, she surmised happily. She floated aloft, content as a child in its mother’s womb.

Ororo, a voice beckoned her. Ororo strained to hear it again.

Who’s there, she pleaded. I can’t see you.

We’re here, Ororo. We’d never leave you.

I know, she answered back. I’m not even afraid of the dark, I’m not, she boasted. I knew you were here with me. I could feel you.

That’s because we love you, child. Two slender hands reached out to her from the light, taking hers. We’ve never left your side. 

Mother! Ororo’s heart leapt with joy, even as it thudded more slowly within her chest.

N’Dare looked at her only daughter with a mixture of pride and sadness. I love you so much, fate wasn’t kind when she took me from you, child.

You don’t have to go now! We’re together, Ororo exclaimed, touching her mother’s smooth brown cheek.

No. I’ll always be with you, Ororo. Always…but not here. Not like this. 

But, Mother…don’t leave. I want to be with you, be with you and Daddy…please, she begged. I can’t lose you again.

We’ve never truly left you, so long as you loved me and your father and kept us in your heart. Go back. Now.

No! What if I get lost, how will I find my way? Mother? MOTHER! COME BACK, COME –

Logan waved away the frothy rush of bubbles as he got his bearings. Ororo was in a bad way, her face already growing pale from the lack of oxygen. He could just pick out the shallow cut across her forehead as she began to sink. Logan scrambled, levering himself under her and catching her as he hauled her upward with broad kicks of his tortured legs.

Water sprayed in an arc of scattered drops from Logan’s hair as he blasted through the surface with Ororo in tow. He treaded water for a moment as he struggled to hold her head above water and find her pulse. “Elf,” he gasped. Kurt tossed him the buoy and hauled it in by the blue polyurethane cord. Kurt was practically halfway in the pool himself as he reached to take Ororo from Logan while he clambered up the ladder. Logan bit back a protest as Kurt pulled her from his grasp and cradled her to his chest, carrying her off the pavement and lying her on the grass. Logan struggled up and tripped forward, sweatpants soaked and weighing him down as he limped beside Kurt. “Her pulse is there, but it’s weak. Get back, Kurt.” Logan barreled over and thrust Kurt aside as he gripped Ororo’s jaw, prying her mouth open and pinching her nostrils shut, praying he wasn’t hurting her.

“Breathe, Ororo, please,” Kurt chanted in his ear as Logan began mouth-to-mouth. Her natural flavors were masked by the oppressive presence of the chlorine as Logan breathed air into her lungs. He paused as Kurt kept count. Ororo’s chest wasn’t rising yet.

Shit.

He breathed again into her mouth. “Can y’hear me, darlin’?” he pleaded during the pause.

He breathed again into her mouth…

…and wanted to shout with relief as his sensitive ears picked up the faint whoosh of air and a weak heartbeat. Logan flinched as Ororo vomited up mouthfuls of water and was wracked with hacking coughs.

“Thank heaven,” Kurt stammered. “Thank you, Holy Father. Thank you,” Kurt huffed, raising his outstretched palms in supplication and gratitude. “Hank’s on his way.” Kurt laid his three-fingered hand on Ororo’s head to assure himself that she’d be okay. Dazed blue eyes fluttered open.

“Lo-gaaannn…” Harsh, raspy coughs interrupted her attempts to speak.

“Sssshh. Shush. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, ‘Ro.” Logan cradled her limp body across his lap as he watched Bishop and Sage making their way across the lawn. “An’ I ain’t lettin’ you go.” Ororo leaned into the bulk of his warm, wet chest and sighed, closing her eyes as she listened to the thudding of his heart.

 

*

 

Ororo didn’t remember the trip back into the house.

A faint voice…at least, it sounded faint, but gruff, kept muttering at her to wake up. She felt her body being shifted, someone lightly tapping her cheek.

“Don’t let her sleep. That’s a bad bump. Looks like a concussion.” Ororo felt something squeezing her arm. Something scratchy, perhaps Velcro, fastened around her, tightening uncomfortably for a moment as a hissing sound filled the room. There was a staccato ripping sound as the blood pressure cuff was removed and tossed aside.

Her eyelids were pried open. “Quit it,” she complained. She winced at the bright light shining directly into her eyes.

“Sorry, Sunshine, I’m not done with you quite yet,” Hank crooned, stroking her hair from her face. “Cognitive function’s fine. Pressure’s good…”

“Hate this,” Ororo hissed. “Jus’ leave me alone…” she slurred.

“…and she’s getting her old fighting spirit back,” Hank chuckled. Kurt leaned down and held Ororo’s free hand, stroking her wrist with his thick thumb.

“You scared ten years of life out of us, Fraulein,” he scolded warmly, forcing a smile onto his lips. His eyes were still frightened, Ororo thought numbly.

“Din’t…mean to,” she promised, still drowsy as Hank continued to prod her.

“Squeeze my two fingers, Ororo.” She obeyed, wincing again. “Good!” Hank wrote down her vitals on his clipboard. Sage walked into the medlab suite with a clean white blanket.

“This one’s fresh out of the warmer,” she announced, tucking it in around Ororo with uncharacteristic tenderness. The two women exchanged a glance that no one else could quite read. Sage clasped Kurt’s shoulder warmly and patted it. “Go upstairs and eat, Kurt. Lunch is ready.”

“In a minute, Fraulein.”

“Hank’s fine with her, Kurt. Come.” Reluctantly Kurt released Ororo’s hand, then bent to kiss her cheek.

“We’ll be back in a while to check on you, liebchen.”

In the hallway outside of the medlab, Logan was just finishing his cigar, not giving a good goddamn about the ashes as they littered the shiny steel floor. He stopped mid-pace as Kurt and Sage exited the lab. “Logan, you’re dripping.”

“Save it, Sage. How is she?”

“She’s all right. Hank has things under control. Why don’t you change out of those wet clothes?” Her suggestion fell on deaf ears as Logan pushed past them into the suite, grinding out the stub of his cigar in his palm. Sage sighed.

“Kurt…?”

“I’m on it,” he replied, smiling as he ‘ported upstairs to Logan’s room to retrieve a fresh change of clothes. Sage didn’t even flinch at the stench of brimstone as she made her way back to the kitchen.

“Pull up a chair,” Hank beckoned. Hank was just opening a chilled bottle of 7-UP and pouring some into a paper cup of ice chips. He flexed a red-and-white bendy straw into it and handed it to Ororo. “This might perk you up a bit, my dear.” Ororo nodded her thanks. Her eyes were drowsy but followed Hank’s movements without jerking. Logan gave silent thanks as he approached the side of the bed. He filled her vision, his face full of concern and relief.

“Hey, ‘Ro,” he whispered.

“I’ll leave you two alone for now. You know where to reach me,” Hank reminded them, holding his own pair of goggles aloft. “There’s also the intercom.” He left Ororo to her guest.

Logan sat in the proffered chair, wheeling it close to the bed and leaning his forehead against the cool bedrails. He heard Ororo sigh in resignation before she spoke.

“Logan…”

“It’s my own goddamned fault,” he interrupted, not looking at her yet. It hurt to see that cut on her head, growing puffy and purple around the edges of the snowy white bandage. “I shouldn’t have left ya alone. I shoulda been there.”

“You couldn’t have known…”

“Yeah, I could’ve. And I should’ve in the first place.”

“You can’t watch me every second of the day.”

“Like hell I can’t.” He sat up and stared at her, drawing her into his angry gaze. “That’s what I signed on for when I came back here, ‘Ro. To help you, whether you think you need that help or not.”

Ororo suddenly felt very small. “I didn’t want…you don’t have to stay if…”

“Are you shittin’ me?” His eyes grew large as he drew back and raked his fingers through his hair, now hopelessly wrecked and disheveled. He cradled his forehead in his hand as he barked, “I don’t have to stay? You’re really sayin’ that? What, you don’t want ta be a burden t’me, ‘Ro? Is that what you’re tellin’ me?” Ororo’s eyes darted away from his as she searched for words that never came.

Logan wasn’t going to let her get away that easily. Not anymore.

“Roro,” he rumbled, reaching out to take her hand in his, stroking her fingers with his thumb,” no matter what you need from me, whether it’s just gettin’ ya something you can’t reach or runnin’ ya some errands, or even throwin’ myself into the path of a Mack truck, don’t you EVER think fer one goddamned moment that it’s a problem for me.”

“I…I’m taking y-you away from…”

“From what?” He threw up his hands. “Bein’ out in the field with Cyke, in the trenches, in the sky, in the sewers? From the arenas in Madripoor? From the stinkin’ tunnels in London? From visiting graves and wonderin’ where it all went wrong? From ripping stuff apart in the Danger Room? From generally gettin’ my ass kicked by anyone and anything that crossed our doorstep? ‘Ro, what’s more important than being here with you?”

“I…I don’t want…to be useless,” Ororo stammered, her breath catching in an odd way. “This was my fault, Logan, not yours. You were right. I should have asked you to take me to the pool, or, I don’t know…” Logan watched helplessly as her face crumpled, tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks and dripping into her 7-Up. 

“Aw, dammit, ‘Ro, don’t cry,” Logan pleaded, softening his voice as he reached for the bed rail. He flicked the lever and lowered it, reaching forward to pluck the cup of soda from her grip and set it on the bedside table. Ororo sobbed loudly, wrenching his gut as she buried her face in her fists. “Who the hell says you’re useless? Not me, ‘Ro. Never. Just because you can’t fly? Because bossing us around and making us keep our shit together has to take a back seat to getting back on your feet? C’mere, darlin’,” he ordered, sitting on the edge of the bed and scooping her into his arms, keeping her bundled in the blanket. Her sobs shook him as he rocked her, smoothing her damp, tangled hair that still smelled of chlorine and fresh air.

“Lo-Logan? You’re still wet,” she sniffled, clutching at his tank top.

“I won’t melt,” he promised, surprised when he heard her giggle against his chest. “No more trips to the pool without me, ‘Ro. Shit, no matter what you wanna do, call me, I’ll put down whatever I’m doin’ in a flash, d’ya hear?”

“Okay,” a tiny voice rasped back. Logan’s arms tightened around her. This is ‘Ro, he told himself. She’s right here, all in one piece. She hasn’t gone anywhere. Logan’s fingers felt good to Ororo as they grazed her scalp. The miracle of this woman settled on his lap moved him more than he could ever describe.

“Maybe we just did too much today. It’s asking a lot of your body to throw a full workout into one afternoon along with swimming laps,” he considered, “but that’ s my fault, too. You’ve been doing so well,” he admitted. “It’s been so easy to let you set the pace, but I’ve been letting you push yourself too hard. Once Hank gives you a clean bill of health, we’re startin’ over again, without this pissin’ contest between us. ‘Til yer strong enough to knock me on my ass again, ‘Ro, I’m the boss, ya get me?” Ororo stifled a laugh. Logan peered down at her, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes. They were still swimming but clear, and filled with tenderness. And something else, Logan realized…

“I get you,” she whispered. She reached up a trembling hand, her slender fingers stroking his grizzled cheek. “Loud and clear.” Logan’s stomach tightened as an irresistible urge gripped him. Suddenly, he was glad he was sitting down.

“Good,” he murmured, “glad we understand each other.” His fingers released her chin and traced her jaw, then crept up to the curve of her ear. He lowered his face to hers, steaming her lips with his breath. “Real glad, ‘Ro.” Ororo made a small sound in her throat as she met him halfway, pulling him down until their lips met in a kiss. Her mouth was soft and pliant beneath his, a perfect fit as he slanted his over it, silently urging her to open for him. Logan felt a little thrill of pleasure as her hand worked its way into his crisp curls as he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue roam, tasting her thoroughly. He caressed her cheek, marveling at her satiny skin. Ororo’s back arched as she squirmed against him, trying to get closer, wishing she could just crawl inside of this infuriating, wonderful man who never left her side or her thoughts these past few weeks. She ignored the dull throbbing in her forehead as Logan just cuddled her, and stroked her, caressing every inch of her that he could reach. Logan paused a moment, coming up for air. “Got a confession t’make, darlin’,” he rasped. “Don’t hate me fer bein’ a selfish sonofabitch, but when I hauled you outta that water, it wasn’t just because you needed my help.” His thick, callused fingertip skimmed her lower lip. He smothered a tiny growl as she nibbled it. “It was because I need you, too. Not ‘we,’ as in the team, but ‘I.’ Me. I can’t lose you. I won’t, ‘Ro.” 

“I need you too, even if it’s just to give me a swift kick in the rear and remind me that I’m just plain folks,” she said, her voice full of feeling. She ran her fingertip up his arm, skimming it lazily through the fine mat of dark hair. Logan shuddered with barely checked desire.

“Don’t do that. Yer killin’ me.”

“It’s the most that I can manage for right now, and I can’t help it, you blasted man! Take it or leave it,” she warned, sniffling as a fresh flood of tears threatened to erupt. “I don’t always have the chance to tell you what you mean to me. You’re always gone, I try to be understanding about it. You do what you need to do.” Logan closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, grimacing as he thought of how his constant absences must have affected her all this time. He kissed the top of her head and tucked it under his chin. “I know how silly it sounds, me worrying about you, a man with a healing factor who practically walks away from death every time it’s dealt…”Ororo felt Logan shaking his head in denial.

“It’s not silly, darlin’, it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said ta me.” And it was. “Thing is, you worried me, ‘Ro. Elf was right, you scared me out of who knows how many years I’ve got left! To be honest, even I don’t know how many years I’ve got left. But those’d be wasted years without my favorite bossy frail t’set me straight.” Ororo’s sobs trickled to minute sniffles as he just held her.

Kurt appeared in a puff of brimstone, bearing a bundle of Logan’s clothes. “If you’ll be here for a while, mein freund, I suggest you change into these. Ororo’s immune to the cold,” he pointed out, “but the same can’t be said for you.”

“Thanks, ‘Elf.” Ororo gave Kurt a watery smile. “Have Sage send down a plate for ‘Ro, would ya?”

“Back in a flash,” Kurt replied cheerfully, disappearing once more. Logan eyed Ororo’s blanket, now damp from his clothing. “Geez, I’m sorry. I’ll get ya another one.”

“Thank you.” Ororo slid off his lap, loath to give up his solid embrace. Reluctantly she released his hand, letting it slip out of hers as he retrieved the clean jeans and T-shirt. She laid back on the pillows, watching him strip off the sodden tank, transfixed by the ripple of muscles playing down his chest and abdomen. “Goddess,” she whispered. Logan froze midway through threading his arms through the sleeves as he met her hungry gaze.

“What?” Logan was incredulous.

“It’s just…you. I’m being silly again, ignore it. It’s the concussion,” she explained. Yet she blushed ten shades of red.

“Spill it,” he prodded, an impish smile lighting up his face.

“You’re incredible,” she muttered under her breath, ducking her head and staring into her lap. Logan chuckled, releasing the last of the tension eating a hole in his gut since he stepped into the lab.

“Sorry, my hearing’s a little…you know, I got some water in my ear?”

“Incredible. You. Amazing,” she breathed. “There’s nothing wrong with your hearing,” she accused, fighting back the smile that crept over her lips.

“Can’t take it back, ‘Ro,” he growled. He thought better of putting the shirt on and instead shucked his sweats, letting them drop.

“I meant what I said.” His back was turned, providing Ororo with the perfect view as he slid out of his soaked boxers. She cleared her throat, not recognizing the desperate voice that tumbled from her mouth. “Um. Logan? Should I be taking a hint from our little incident today and covering my eyes?”

“Nope. This makes us even.”

“Oh. Good.” She licked her lips. “That’s…good.” He scooped up the fresh pair and hopped into them before walking back out into the hall to pop another blanket in the warmer. 

Logan came back with the fresh cover, laying it on the chair as he peeled the damp one from Ororo. He eyed her swimsuit, fighting back his arousal at the sight of her sumptuous curves outlined in black spandex. Ororo licked her lips again as his eyes traveled over her with yearning. “I wanna play nursemaid and help ya t’get dry, ‘Ro,” he admitted, “but it’s all I can do to keep myself from playin’ doctor.” Her slow smile nearly did him in. “You’ve gotta take it easy til you can knock me on my ass, ‘Ro,” he repeated, fetching a gown from the linen cupboard.

“When that time comes…I’d prefer you on your back.” Ororo peeked up at him through her dark lashes and demurely covered her breasts as she slid down the straps of her suit. In a grand gesture of chivalry, Logan held the gown in front of her, keeping his eyes on hers as she eased out of the damp garment. She slipped her arms into the sleeves, allowing him to reach around her, lifting her heavy spill of white hair off of her neck as he tied the laces in a neat bow. The only liberty he took was to graze her throat with her lips. She bit back a tiny whimper. “Not fair,” she complained.

“Gotta give you something to work for,” he suggested. She leaned back as he grasped her suit, rolling it down from her hips beneath the concealing gown. Exhausted, Ororo settled back on the pillows. Logan shook out the blanket and sat on the edge of the bed again. Ororo, surprised but pleased, moved over to make room as he swung his sinewy legs up and stretched out beside her, pulling the cover over them both.

Logan then pulled Ororo to his chest, covering himself with her lissome, sweet-smelling flesh. The afternoon ticked by as the two exchanged honest words and countless, heartfelt kisses that were long overdue. Ororo’s soft breath stirred the hairs on his chest as she curled up and gave in to the deep slumber that claimed her.

“I don’t need t’be anywhere but here, ‘Ro,” Logan said, burying his face in her hair.

FIN.


End file.
